Personal Paranormal Experiences #1 - The Cursed Hotel Room

This is the first of a few paranormal experiences I've had. My experiences with the paranormal at a young age have influenced my deep interest in all things that go bump in the night. This series will explore these. I don't expect everyone to believe me, but these stories are 100% true. I leave your belief up to your own discretion.

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When people think of a tropical holiday, Bali is usually one of the destinations that comes to mind. With pearly white beaches, palm trees, partying and relaxation, you can’t go wrong in Bali.

But let me take you back almost 20 years to when I was very little, and let me explain a few days of experience that influenced my interests and opinions on the supernatural to this very day.

This is the time that me and my family stayed in a cursed hotel room in Bali.

Before we begin, let me set the scene for you. It’s 2004, and I’m in early childhood. I can walk and talk, but I’m a dumb little kid experiencing the world. I’m with my mother, father and brother, and we live in Asia. We’ve heard of the beautiful tropics and pure waters of Bali, and head over for a holiday.

No sooner do we land, do we feel the intense Balinese heat and humidity. From the airport, we’re picked up and driven by a shuttle van to a hotel we would stop at for the night. This same van would be used to drive us to our next destination. If you’ve been to Bali, you’d know there are plenty of rock walls and cliffs which infrastructure is often built next to. Well, the hotel was no different, and sat right next to, or more under, a rocky cliff wall.

Fast forward a bit, we’ve picked up the keys, checked in and head to the room to check it out. The interior is alright, nothing luxurious but not bad either. Now here’s where the story begins. If any of you have an East Asian parent, or know East Asian culture, you’d know they are very superstitious. My mother, being Taiwanese is very superstitious, and upon entering the room, was quite dismayed to see that one of the beds in the room was facing the door.

If you’re not familiar with this superstition, let me explain. In the rules of Feng Shui, having your head or feet facing the door symbolizes death, as it looks like being wheeled out on a stretcher or a coffin. It also means you are sleeping in front of the doorway in which all types of forces enter the room. While this may seem ridiculous to people unfamiliar with the superstition, it’s one that many take very seriously in these cultures, including my mother. She wanted to change rooms, but my father, who is a staunchly atheist European, thought this was a ridiculous notion and too much of a hassle. And so, we stayed in the room.

Now here’s when it starts to get weird.

It was getting somewhat late, and I had started to feel very nauseous and sick. Before long, my brother too started to feel sick. Soon enough, we’re both throwing up in the toilet. Not long after this, my father proceeds to stand up, walk over to the bathtub and vomit violently into it. The only one left standing is my mother, who is now looking after a very sick family. As to what caused this sickness, I guess we chalked it up to food poisoning, although we had eaten the same thing.

The flight in and the unknown sickness had burned us all out, and we soon found ourselves fast asleep. My mother reluctantly let my father sleep in the bed facing the doorway, with me and my brother sharing a bed.

That night, she has a dream, and sees my father being wheeled out on a stretcher. This was distressing, understandably, and jolted her awake. The room is dark, when suddenly….

“Hello”, “Hello”.

Upon hearing the two distinctive voices, she looks over to my father, to see a dark figure standing over him while he sleeps.

This was enough for her. She jumps up, turns on the lights and forces all of us awake.

She tells us, “we are moving rooms!” And against my father’s tired wishes, we go to reception and force them to move our room to one further down the hallway. 

We sleep through the night like stones, and morning comes. Our whole family feels better, with my mother less distressed due to the room change, and the rest of us feeling rested, and completely absent of sickness, like we were never sick in the first place. We enjoy a day or two in the surroundings of the hotel.

We pack our belongings, ready to move onto our next destination, and eager to head onto the van now waiting outside the hotel.

As we open the door to head out of the room, we hear a commotion outside. As if right on queue, we see two EMTs wheeling a body out of the room, covered by a sheet. The feet, first through the door. My mother cannot believe this and is horrified. We found out that a couple, who had flown in late, had taken our room, and now, one was dead.

We are now desperate to leave this place, and hurry out of the hotel. We see the van outside and start to load our bags into it quickly. Just as soon as the bags are loaded, we hear a loud thud, before seeing a large rock crash directly in front of the van. The rock had broken off the cliff face which the hotel was built next to. A little bit back, and it would have caused serious injury, or even death, to whoever was in the van.

This was the final straw. We got into the van and got out of there as fast as possible. Our holiday in Bali was unaffected by this incident, but it is a story that will not be forgotten in our family anytime soon, the story of the cursed hotel in Bali.